


The Truce

by TWriter



Series: To Fall or To Fly [10]
Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Suicide Attempt, Video, awkward Bruce and Jason chats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:12:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWriter/pseuds/TWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After some uncharacteristic introspection, Bruce comes to some conclusions. And he and Jason come to an agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truce

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, warning for mentions of a past suicide attempt. 
> 
> This installment was a bit difficult to write. I don't know why, but I couldn't get the interaction between Bruce and Jason to where I wanted it. After much fiddling, I present you with an installment that I'm not overly happy with, but is necessary to getting this story going. If anyone has any ideas to help me out, they would be much appreciated.

Bruce stared at the ceiling above him, sleep as far from his mind as could be. 

He had left the Batcave a couple hours before, knowing he would not be sleeping any time soon. Not with his eldest in such a bad way. All he could think about was his own stupidity. His son wakes up after a suicide attempt and he shouts at him? What kind of father was he?

He had every hope that Jason had been wrong when he said Dick might’ve tried to kill himself. But the moment he spoke the accusation aloud, and he saw the look on Dick’s face, he knew. And it broke his heart to pieces. 

To many, Bruce was an emotionless, distant father. He hoped his sons knew different, but he suspected they knew little of how much he truly cared. They knew he loved them, right? Did Dick know that, when he jumped?

Bruce couldn’t believe that last bit. Despite Dick’s love of flying, his mentor knew Dick’s fear of falling. Of dying like his parents. Every grapple line was quadruple-checked before patrol. Trapeze apparatuses, either in the gym in the manor or at Titan Tower, were carefully inspected before every use. A fraying rope, no matter how inconsequential the damage might be, was replaced before anyone was allowed to use it. It was a fear that Dick had a great handle on—a much better handle than Bruce had on his own issue with guns—but still existed. Dick was determined that no one would fall, not while he was able to stop it. His choice of death, then, made it all the clearer to Bruce. His son was determined, so determined that he faced his greatest fear, and fell willingly. The thought made Bruce nauseas. 

Unable to sit still a moment longer, Bruce stood. He wouldn’t go back to the Batcave just yet. Jason had not yet given the all clear, and, despite the differences between them, he trusted Jason to do what was best for Dick right now. 

Instead, he paced the halls of the mansion. The quiet was uncomfortable. Although no Robin was quite as boisterous as the first, the fact that all four were gathered under one roof should mean chaos. It had never happened before, but Bruce had always anticipated that the event would bring more noise than the manor had ever seen. Despite his desire for the family to work out the differences among them (his pride prevented him from admitting his own part to play in smoothing the ruffled feathers of his Robins), he had dreaded the insanity it would bring. To find himself in the situation he had, in a sense, dreaded, but without the anticipated result, was far worse than he imagined. 

Unknowingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, he found himself outside of Dick’s childhood room. It had been almost a decade since dick had stayed in it regularly, but it remained his room as long as he wished it to be. Bruce hadn’t actually gone into the room for a while—Dick was rarely there, so Bruce had no reason to set foot inside. Why visit an empty room when he could visit his son instead?

In a rare moment of sentimentality, Bruce opened the door. He hoped to be reminded of a happier time, before he made his greatest mistake that pushed Dick away for so long. The sight that greeted him was one he would have never expected. 

Jason sat in front of his brother’s computer, his hand covering his eyes. From the way his shoulders shook, and the fact that the young man hadn’t even noticed his ex-mentor, it seemed it his emotions had taken over. A sniffle proved it. Jason was crying.

Instinctually, Bruce moved to comfort his second son. He carefully, placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder, causing the latter to jerk a bit in surprise. It didn’t cross the older man’s mind that this is the son who hated him the most, nor did it cross the younger’s mind that he was meant to hate the man who was comforting him. In a moment of complete vulnerability, the two ignored the animosity bred through several years of fighting, and instead fell back into roles long lost—father and son. 

After several minutes of silence, Jason rubbed his eyes. He looked up at Bruce with a familiar glint in his eye. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two held each other’s stares for another moment, until Bruce broke the silence. “What are you doing in here?”

“I, uh…” Jason faltered, looking unsure of himself. Bruce stole a glance at the previously ignored monitor, which displayed a series of video files. He felt sick.

“Are those…” The unfinished question hung heavy between them. 

“His suicide note. Or notes. Or videos, I guess. I found a paper in his pocket, it said to find this when he was…”

“Have you watched it?”

“Yeah. I did. Bruce, these date back 10 years, since I was Robin. How could he have hidden this for so long?”

“Dick always was able to hide well. I suppose he could hide his feelings as well as he could hide himself.” Awkwardly, Bruce asked the question that had been bothering him since Dick had woken up. “Does it say why?”

“Not explicitly, really. He hated himself. Sometimes there isn’t a root cause, a trauma, a specific thing that makes it happen. Sometimes it just exists, eating away at you until you wonder what the point of it all is. I guess that was what went on with him.”

“Oh, God…” Bruce sat on the bed behind him, placing his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“The Great Batman at a loss? Never thought I’d see the day.” Jason’s sarcasm returned, breaking the tenuous and unsaid truce between them in the face of the almost tragedy. Like Bruce, Jason also fell back on old habits, particularly when talking to Bruce.

“Jason, I know I messed up a lot, but is it really necessary—“

“You’re one to talk about necessary, Bruce. Was it necessary to yell like that at Dick when he first woke up? No. Did that stop you? Of course not. Admit it, you were so scared of not being able to stop something from hurting Dick, so you tried to attack what hurt him. Pretty counterintuitive, if you ask me.”

“You’re right, Jason. I get so scared when things hurt those I care for. My first reaction is to attack whatever hurt them. I don’t know what to do, but I’m willing to try anything. I only wish you would forgive me for your death. I wish we could work on this together.”

Jason froze, the snippy comeback sticking in his throat. Was Bruce actually willing to listen?

Seeing Jason’s shock, Bruce continued. “I know that you care for Dick. I only want us to work together to help him.”

“Bruce, there’s a lot we don’t see eye-to-eye on. I will never understand why you refuse to get rid of this city’s problem’s permanently. You’ll never understand why your partners get tired of your bullshit. But if it’s to help Dickie-bird, and if you’re willing to get your act in gear, we best give this a shot.”


End file.
